writhed like an electric fan

legodildo:

marrowskies:

because I can give some to you. Also I am bored. Basically this is a request for requests, If you’d like.

 THIS TABLET IS AWESOME ILKAJSDFLKJASDF LKJAXVLKJAWEIJVLKJSDF

Yes. Yessssss. I would like Clint and Natasha with a corgi, peeeeeze!  ♥

when it reblogged, all I saw was “Clint and Natasha with corgi,” and I didn’t know how that related to the Avengers.

Naturally, I assumed they were weapons.

janeturenne:

marrowskies:

I felt like that last picture was too subtle.

Also girls are hot.

It’s the little things that keep Brax coming back.

If she’s honest with herself—and, contrary to popular opinion, she is always honest with herself—chasing the girls who play hard to get is hardly new territory for Brax.  The thing about Narvin, though, the thing that makes her unique, is that the pursuit never stops.  There isn’t ever a definitive victory, a moment when Brax can count on Narvin to open the door to Brax’s knocks, or to smile across tables, or to not shrug away from a touch.  There isn’t ever a guarantee that just because they’re here today, they’ll be here again tomorrow.  Which Brax would have sworn would be tedious, too much work in the long run, but which, it turns out, only makes every single day more deliciously piquant in its uncertainty.

Because some days, Brax does win.  Some days, she stumbles on a compliment so carefully worded that it makes Narvin blush instead of scowl.  Some days, she knows just when a touch to the small of the back will change the atmosphere of a room.  Some days, she finds the elusive gift so perfectly judged that Narvin will actually accept it.  

And on those days, Brax is rewarded with the little things that Narvin usually holds back.  The hungry upward tilt of Narvin’s hips.  The eager tug of her fingers in Brax’s own hair.  The way she shakes, just a little—so slightly she can always disavow it later, a tremble with plausible deniability—as she waits for Brax to kiss her.

Brax smiles like a wolf, inside, at the joint thrill of pleasure and success, and leans in to claim her victory.

It’s the little things that keep Brax coming back.

The thing about Brax is that she wants to seek a victory. She shows it in every boundary that she pushes; every bit of personal space she invades. She shows it each time Narvin backs away from her proximity or brushes a hand off her shoulder or replies to a vaguely flirtatious comment with an unamused scowl. Because after every rebuff, Brax will stop and wait. Sometimes she’ll wait as long as a week; sometimes the wait will only last a few microspans. But every time, Brax will wait, patient thing that she can be, and give Narvin just enough time to recover (not too much) before trying again. The next time, Brax will approach her more cautiously. She’ll touch her arm instead of her shoulder, perfect the wording a tiny little bit more. Trying to crack a code. And as much as Narvin despises it, when she gets it right, the blushes are always involuntary. It was involuntary the first time too, when she found herself cornered in a briefing room, two arms and a body blocking her way, a situation only worsened by the Ex-Chancellor’s expression – smug, knowing, generally loathsome. But it’s only the blushing that’s involuntary. Only.

Narvin has never felt a particular thrill in chases. They’re exhausting and time-consuming, and she has long since found that it is much easier and much more fun to have prey come to you, blissfully unwitting. But she’ll happily give Brax a challenge on the way, if that’s what she’s looking for.

She creates the chase because she never stops appreciating that Brax tries so hard. It’s a lovely stazer that’s attached to her hip right now, hidden underneath about three layers of clothing; her favourite, just what she wanted, though she’ll never ever say.

Like Brax, Narvin does love to win. But unlike Brax, she’s content with being the only one who knows of her victories (that has after all been her entire career for the most part). Therefore she is perfectly happy in being the only one who knows that she’s the one winning when the carefully impatient tug that she gives Brax’s hair elicits a certain type of sigh and a corresponding jerk at her own hair, and when the shift of her hips causes the fingers around her waist to tighten just a bit.

Little things. If certain Earth idioms about detail are to be believed, Narvin knows their God very, very well.

She doesn’t shake.

In the end, she lets Brax (irradiating hubris) swoop in - her ultimate victory.

(Source: buticantswim)

briannacherrygarcia:

madhattress330:

mypoten:

riispace:

PhotoBurt on Flickr.

Disneyland Park Bert photobombs a couple.

…..Bert. Oh Bert. Please just……never stop being flawless. I love you.

Bert. The ultimate photobomber.

tuanthecat:

missvoltairine:

still think it looks like he’s wearing underwear on his head.

me too tbh. I think it solidifies that mental image to have done it oneself. 

still looks like Tom Hardy is white.

… yep.

(Source: god-damn-thats-a-lucky-ass-bitch)

(Source: norhythmthatsme)

I felt like that last picture was too subtle.

Also girls are hot.